Wednesday, July 31, 2013

Stubborn is what I'm labeled with when I stand resolute on
something I think is right and just. Often I think I know everything there's to
know about a certain thing. I make up my mind and am very clear about the way I
feel about it. There are no doubts, no arguments entertained. Like those
permanent crease that are imprinted in my hands I know there aren't going to be
any alterations. My sagacities are well defined and there's little scope for any
change.

Only if things were so straightforward. Only if I wasn't a
human and didn't have this capacity of being molded by the circumstances and
people around. Only if unlearning and casting off was an option and this grey matter
inside my head was not growing. Only if I wasn't maturing with each passing
year and starting to realize that the colors in visible spectrum of my cerebrum
keeps growing and there will never come a time, not now, when I can be
completely right and wrong. There will always be perspectives and circumstances
to weigh in. There's nothing like certainty. I'm never going to be certain again.

Every time he tried to reconstruct the internal arguments
that had led to his decision, they sounded feebler to him.”―J.K. Rowling, Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows

Young me, certain, confident

life seemed easy, comfy,
cheery

less I knew, knew what I had
to do

what wasn't fine, what wasn't
right

when I was or wasn't alright

sketches I drew, so many

only pencil I used, shades so uncanny

differences easy,
light and dark

easily marked,
in and out so stark.

Stubbornness-my way, I recall

no paradoxes, when I flew I
didn't fall

never I gave a second thought

there was no point of coming
back

I knew I was coursing the
right track

again sketches I drew, so many

some colors I used, used so
barely

canvas was scrambled, seems
what I got

was some misconstrued blueprint
of a plot.

I grew, spent more time

seen, litany of complaints and crimes

like everyone else, peccant mortal I am

exposed to the tableau of right and wrong

seen rise and fall of both weak and strong

sketches that I make now, colors so many

polychromic in feel, sensuous so scenery

judgments are blurred now, ever a scope for
things

insatiable life now, engulfing whatever it brings.

Let go of certainty. The opposite isn't uncertainty. It's
openness, curiosity and a willingness to embrace paradox, rather than choose up
sides. The ultimate challenge is to accept ourselves exactly as we are, but
never stop trying to learn and grow.

Saturday, July 27, 2013

Every day, I'm sure it happens with you too, there
are so many things people say to you, so many things those puppy faces do to
you, out of jealousy, agony, anger or simply for innocuous reasons. If you
start compiling them down or linger on to them for longer duration god knows
how enormous can that pile be. Bronx cheers, shady remarks, taunting and twits,
well there just too many ways to pull your legs and problem is people around
you know you too well to use them when they feel like. Does that bothers me ?

Yeah pretty much. I would be lying if I say
otherwise. But, I've made something clear to myself that all these people are
nothing but road-blocks. They are just there, lying on my way where I intend to
go. I guess they do a little good to me by keeping me on a leash. For an
instant they do push me a little on edge but I make sure to drag myself up, or open
up my parachute in time in case I make a wrong jump.

Thanks
to those Mystery Spots in our brain where all this clutter is not only hived away but
clandestinely buried and blocked so that fallout is almost negligible to naked
eyes.

Each day brings its petty dust

Our soon-choked souls
to fill,

And we forget because
we must,

And not because we
will.

~Mathew Arnold

Does that bother me ?

all those nitwitted trumpery talks

those words when processed in my head

I let them walk, ambulate across my neural highways

keep riding, with speed bumps, across the alley all the way.

Does that annoy me a lot ?

all those wasted wish-wash talks

they do boil the fluid inside me, tempering me

those little nagging nick my skin so tough, though

in check, I always am, when reasons not swell enough.

How messed up I am ?

keep singing to me that song, if only

often coated with jaggary, those nuked taunts

aimed right at me, they do make a tangible depression

on the crest, of heart of mine, are in for stirring impressions.

What do I do ?

I keep my calm and go off of the tangent

dive into music and drift along the sound waves

of my song, pull a curve along my face projecting straight

no, it really doesn't
bothers me, and I carry on with my life's parade.

My mind lets go of a thousand things,Like dates of wars and deaths of kings